


Falling in Steps

by mitsukai613



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8719300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: When Toki first joins the band, Pickles doesn't quite know what to think of the kid, but it doesn't really matter; he needs him to play, not be his friend. Soon, though, that's exactly what he becomes, and eventually their relationship develops into more.





	

                When Toki first joined the band, Pickles didn’t quite know what to think of the kid. He was the first person Pickles had ever met that acted more formal than the bitches on the PTA with his mom, his English was worse than Skwisgaar’s (apparently he’d been practicing most of the speech he’d given when he met them for weeks), and any time any of them had so much as even a sip of beer or kissed a woman, he’d run out of the room like a bat out of hell. It was almost funny, and it didn’t matter anyway; the kid was fast and he played what Skwisgaar told him to play. That was all they really needed out of him; didn’t matter if they were friends or not.

                Still, he was curious. The kid didn’t seem like the type to have ever even listened to metal, much less play it like he did. He wasn’t what Pickles expected their rhythm guitarist would be. Not that he knew what he was expecting. Hell, he was still surprised Skwisgaar had wanted the kid to start with; he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and it to all be some kind of joke Skwisgaar wanted to play.

                In a way, he hoped that was wrong. He seemed like a nice kid on hard times, judging by the state of his clothes and his guitar. Reminded him a little of himself at the start, just before he’d found Snakes N’ Barrels looking for a singer. He sighed, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. He was too drunk to think about that sort of shit, especially then when he was the only one home with the kid. Everyone else had left to get drunk, since the record head had just paid them, and decided it was his turn to make sure the kid didn’t manage to accidentally kill himself or something. Didn’t matter much since he was drunk anyway. He laughed to himself, probably too loud, and heard someone come into the room.

                “Heeeeey, Toki,” he said, tipping his head back so he could see him. The kid smiled nervously, eyes downcast towards his feet.

                “Hellos, Pickle,” he mumbled, like Pickles would yell at him or something. “Is all everybodies else gone?” Pickles was pretty sure he meant, “Is Skwisgaar gone?” since the two of them had been glued at the hip since Toki had joined, but he didn’t mention it.

                “Yeah, jus’ gat paid. Ya hungry er somethin’?” He’d stopped staring at his feet and started glancing between Pickles and the door.

                “Nos, is just…,” he stopped, scrunching up his face in the way Pickles had figured out meant that he couldn’t think of the word for something in English. “Ams sorry.” Pickles laughed again before he thought that the kid might think he was being a dick, but he didn’t seem to mind.

                “Ya wanna hang out a while?” Another nervous smile, and he shifted his weight around, but finally he nodded and came to sit by him carefully. His back was stiff and straight and Pickles didn’t think he’d ever seen him relax his shoulders. Pickles rolled his eyes and pushed at the center of his chest; he was pretty fucking sure that it was just surprise that made him fall against the back of the couch, judging by the hard muscle Pickles felt. Toki actually laughed, easier and more real than Pickles had ever heard.

                “What ams de others doesing?” he asked, and Pickles just shrugged.

                “Gettin’ drunk, prob’ly. Mighta went to a club er something too.” He nodded like he understood, but Pickles was pretty sure he didn’t actually. “Need ta have some fun before the manager starts makin’ us record again.” He tilted his head and Pickles tried to ignore how cute and how young it made him seem.

                “Ams it nots fun tos be recording de musics?” Pickles laughed again, patting him on the shoulder and taking another sip of his drink.

                “Different sorta fun. Ya wanna drink?” He honestly wasn’t sure why in hell he asked even though he already knew the answer. Toki flinched a little at the question, eyes going wide as he shook his head.

                “No thanks you, Pickle.”

                “Didn’t think ya would. Why’s it make ya so uncomfortable anyway?” He squirmed where he sat, suddenly not looking Pickles in the face.

                “Is bad.” Pickles had lived in rural Wisconsin for long enough that he understood what that really meant; it’s a sin. A lot of Toki’s weirder traits suddenly started making a hell of a lot more sense.

                “Don’t worry about it, kid. I get it.” He didn’t, really; never had. Mostly he just wanted Toki to stop looking like he was going to jump up and run out of the room. He smiled a little, just the tiniest curl of his lips, and he was still looking at Pickles from under his hair, but he stopped looking so damn scared. Pickles remembered being that jumpy, once. He hoped Toki had a different reason for it, but he was pretty sure that was something else they had in common.

                “Skwisgaar says I’s am beings reallies veries stupids.”

                “Sometimes Skwisgaar’s a dildo. Ya don’t gatta do nothin’ ya don’t wanna do.” Toki brushed his hair back from his face, smiling wider now, looking for all the world like that was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. Pickles felt suddenly stupid, like anyone else in the world was better suited to be sitting there than him.

                “Your eyes are a weird color,” he said before he could stop himself, “I never met nobody with eyes that pale.” He just laughed again, settling more against the couch, shoulders slowly relaxing.

                “Amnest weird where I ams froms. You woulds be de weirds one dere; nobodies gots red hair. Is nice weirds, though.” Pickles grinned, tilting his head back and feeling a little less inadequate.

                “So’re you, Toki. Nice weird. Hey, we might as well have some fun, yeah? Ya wanna watch a movie ‘er somethin’?” He nodded, still smiling, and curled his legs up onto the couch beside him.

                “Ja, okays. I ams not knowings any of de movies, though, sos you gots to pick.” Pickles nodded and went to grab some shitty action movie that looked loud and stupid off the shelf.

                “Ya wanna go make some papcorn er something while I get this set up?” Toki looked so fucking excited that Pickles wondered for a second if he thought popcorn was some kind of magic; he didn’t want to admit how endearing he found it. Honestly, he didn’t want to admit how endearing he found most things about the kid. He jumped up and bounced off to the kitchen while Pickles fucked around with the shitty DVD player until he managed to get the movie playing.

                The popcorn ended up burned and Pickles was pretty damn sure he’d never seen a shittier movie, but he had to admit he had fun. Toki was funny and sweet and he wondered why he hadn’t talked to the kid more before this for a moment until he remembered that Toki generally just kind of wasn’t around unless Skwisgaar was with him. Maybe Toki’d be more willing to hang around without Skwisgaar from now on, though. Pickles couldn’t help but hope so, anyway, and that was the last thing he thought before he ended up falling asleep on the couch. Though he didn’t know it, Toki wasn’t far behind him.

* * *

 

                From then on, Toki did start wandering on his own more often, even if it was just to hang out with Pickles. The rest of the band didn’t really get it, and Pickles could tell that Skwisgaar was jealous as all hell, but he didn’t mind much. Toki was good company, usually; sometimes he would lapse into this weird, deathly silence, but most of the time it didn’t take too much to pull him out of it and make him laugh again. Helped him talk to the others more, too; apparently having to decipher what Pickles was saying through his accent was good for his English.

                Most of the time he started volunteering to stay home with Toki when the others went out. Every now and then Skwisgaar would insist he go, and he heard his name come up a couple times when he listened in on them speaking in their native languages once, but more often than not the Swede would let him have his way. Pickles guessed it was probably only because Offdensen was encouraging it, since it seemed good for Toki. All in all, Pickles didn’t look too deeply at it; didn’t want to, didn’t need to, didn’t give a damn. Toki was his friend despite not needing to be. If sometimes Pickles caught himself hoping for the others to go out, that was his own fucking business.

                Some nights, though… they were sitting in Pickles’ room. They were both stretched out on Pickles’ bed, Toki’s shirt pulled up a little on his stomach. Pickles still hadn’t ever bothered to ask how old the kid actually was; usually he was good at guessing, but the disconnect between the way he acted and the way he looked threw him off. He wondered if Offdensen even knew, before he realized that he had to. Would Offdensen have let them put a minor in the band? Maybe he’d forged papers or something saying the kid was older than he really was. He shook his head, sighing to himself. Didn’t matter how old he was. Pickles swallowed.

                “You gonna get a new guitar any time soon, Toki?” he asked, and he frowned, shrugging. Pickles took a drink; his mouth still felt dry and clumsy.

                “I am nots knowing. Maybes. Skwisgaar says I amnest sounds good enough on de one I has.”

                “You always sound good. I do kinda wanna hear what ya can do on a guitar that ain’t a piece ‘a shit, though. What tha hell happened to dat one, anyway?” Toki just shrugged again, looking away from Pickles in the way he’d figured out meant that Toki was about to lie.

                “Boughts it like dat. Couldn’t affords nothing elses.” That was bullshit. Not even the shittiest pawn shop in LA would’ve taken and sold a guitar in that kind of shape. Hell, he was surprised Toki was still able to get a clear note out of it with how banged up it was. Testament to how good he really was, he guessed.

                “Someone ripped ya aff, then. Hey, gimme a second, yeah? I wanna see ya try somethin’.” He shot up and went to his closet, digging around until he came out with his old Goldtop. He was a little confused by how bad he suddenly wanted to see Toki play it; he remembered once he nearly took Tony’s hand off when he tried to grab it. He plugged it into his amp anyway, got Toki to sit up, and settled it in his grip. Pickles wasn’t sure if he looked silly with it in his hands or beautiful, and he took another drink, deeper this time and longer. Toki didn’t flinch quite as much anymore, when he drank. Exposure therapy and all that shit. He didn’t know. “Try dat. Maybe… think you can play your part in Go Forth ‘an Die?” Toki looked confused for a second, then surprised when he played a few notes and found out that the guitar was tuned.

                “You plays de guitars too?” He looked like he was in awe, and Pickles felt his face turning red. Fucking Irish family.

                “Yeah, used to. Nat like you and Skwisgaar, though.” Toki laughed.

                “You ams good at everyt’ing, huh? You plays de guitar and de drums, and you sings! Just learns de bass and you be de whole bands, ja?” Pickles looked down to one side, shrugging again.

                “Just play tha fuckin’ sang, Toki.” So he did. It ground out of the guitar like some kind of monster, Toki bobbing his head along with the beat, and even if Pickles knew he’d sound better on a better guitar, he hadn’t thought it’d be quite this good. He felt like he was finally seeing whatever the hell it was that Skwisgaar had seen when he asked Toki to join the band; he really might’ve been close to Skwisgaar’s equal. Second fastest to go with the fastest, push him further than he’d ever been pushed; they really were some kind of matching set. He shook his head. “Fuck, kid.”

                “Ams I was bads?” he asked, brushing his choppy bangs back from his face, and Pickles snorted.

                “Hell no. Ya give Skwisgaar a run for his money, and I sure as hell never thought I’d be sayin’ dat.” Toki still wasn’t too good at taking compliments. He floundered for a minute, shoving the guitar into Pickles’ hands and pulling his knees up to his chest to keep from having to respond.

                “Takk, Pickle. Yous play somet’ing for mes now?” Pickles felt very suddenly like he was on stage for the first time again, like he was standing in front of a crowd of people that didn’t know his name or his face and would’ve beaten the shit out of him if they didn’t like what he played.

                “Uh, yeah. Okay.” He cleared his throat, and started strumming the start of some old Snakes N’ Barrels ballad. He remembered how many girls used to come backstage and ask him to sing it for them, remembered lying a million times about who it was about. “Yeah, yeah, it was my old girlfriend back home. Only girl I ever loved—if you’re hearin’ this, it’s for you, Sarah.” “Nah, nobody serious. She was a stripper, actually. Best fuckin’ show I ever saw.” “Had a fan ask me ta write a sang about his girl. Couldn’t resist, after he talked about her.” It wasn’t actually about anybody, never had been, but he’d always taken pride in how sincere he could make that sappy bullshit sound. He’d never really liked the song, so he didn’t know why he started playing it and he knew even less why he still sang the words as he played. Still, Toki smiled and swayed along with the song, eyes closed.

                “That ams pretty,” he said, when the last notes of the song filtered away. “You writes it for a girlfriends?” Pickles shook his head and laid the guitar aside. He’d forgotten how nice it felt to play sometimes, forgotten how much he loved the feeling of his Goldtop in his hands.

                “Nah, didn’t write it for nobady. Just needed a sang like dat, ya know? Somethin’ for tha girls.” Pickles could tell from his face that he didn’t understand, but he didn’t say anything anyway.

                “You was in another bands, ja?” Pickles nodded.

                “Snakes N’ Barrels, but we broke up a lang time ago. I wanted somethin’ heavier, ya know? Me and another guy in the band fought about it all the fuckin’ time. I met Nat’en a couple years after the end of Snakes N’ Barrels and we started Dethklak nat lang after.” He hadn’t ever mentioned he fights with Tony to anyone else and he didn’t know for sure why it slipped out then, but Toki was easy to talk to. “You can play with dat Goldtap until we get ya somethin’ nicer, by the way.” Toki smiled like Pickles had just offered him the world.

                “Reallies? But it ams yours.”

                “Yeah, I know. Don’t break it, I ain’t givin it to ya ta keep.”

                “I won’ts, promises!” Skwisgaar would probably have something to say about his rhythm guitarist playing with the Goldtop, since he’d said more than once how ugly he thought it was, but Pickles could admit he had a taste for the flashy, and he’d finally decided that he kind of liked how Toki looked with his guitar in his hands.

                “Yeah, I know.” Toki smiled and Pickles felt like a douchebag; he was just a kid, innocent and naïve and so fucking nice it hurt. Pickles laughed; Toki was more like the idealized girl in that damn song than any other person he’d ever met. He started to push the thought away, then decided that, like his hope for the others to leave them alone, these thoughts were his own damn business too, as long as he never acted on it, and besides, Skwisgaar had probably already thought worse. Wasn’t like it was the first time Pickles thought a guy was cute. Hell, him and Tony… that thought, he did wipe away as quickly as he could. He didn’t like thinking about that particular bit of the past, especially not after how it had ended.

                Toki dropped backwards on the bed, hair flying around his face, and laughed like the kid he might’ve been. Pickles felt himself smiling and lay back again too.

                “I ams glad I gots to knows you, Pickle. I t’ink you ams one of de bestest friends I ams ever hads.” He said it so quietly that Pickles barely heard, and he wasn’t even totally sure he was supposed to hear, but it didn’t matter much.

                “Yeah? I feel bad for ya, I’m a pretty shitty friend.” Toki frowned, jerking upright again, hovering over him. Pickles felt his hand twitch, tried to take a drink, and realized his beer was empty. He suddenly wanted Toki gone so he could roll a joint; he tried not to smoke around the kid.

                “No you ams not. I haven’ts hads a lot of de friends, but you ams like what I was always thoughts it was supposed tos be likes.” Pickles snorted.

                “Quit bein’ stupid and lay back down, dude. I’m just fuckin’ with ya, anyway; I like hangin’ out with you too.” His shoulders relaxed, and even though he was still frowning like something Pickles had said upset him, he did what Pickles was asked. He didn’t expect much else; he didn’t like doing it, but he’d found out pretty fast that if anyone said anything that sounded like a command, Toki would usually do it. Mostly he just didn’t like thinking about why he was like that.

                 “T’anks. Is… you wants go out tomorrows? Maybes see de movies or somet’ing?” Pickles felt himself swallow, then turned his head to Toki and smiled. He had to force it a little, still caught up in guilt and worry and the past.

                “Sounds fun. We’ll go in the mornin’; I’ll even drive.” Hopefully, anyway. He was pretty sure he still had his license still. Toki looked amazed, anyway. Was he even old enough to drive? Christ. He needed a drink. He needed enough drinks to forget everything he’d thought that night, so tomorrow would be normal and easy again. Toki hated it when he got that drunk. Still, he was standing up; maybe he’d leave and wouldn’t have to know about it.

                “I ams looking forwards to it! Skwisgaar ams told me to come tos his room for de practices arounds now, though. Sees you tomorrows, Pickle!” Pickles smiled again, sitting up and hoping Toki couldn’t see his thoughts on his face.

                “Yeah. Have fun, dude.” Toki waved at him and left, big grin still on his face, and Pickles wasn’t sure if he suddenly hated Skwisgaar or was more grateful for him than ever. He thought maybe it was both, pulled his nicer liquor from under his bed, and got blackout drunk like the fucking piece of trash his father always promised he was.

* * *

 

                More time passed by, and a few weeks later Pickles found himself walking to Toki’s room, bored and with no other way to spend his afternoon. He’d finally convinced the kid to put sheets on the bed and take the creepy photos off the wall, at least while Pickles was in there, and Charles and Nathan had been giving him some books to read other than the bible. Day by day, he relaxed more and more—talking to him now, it was almost possible to believe he was a guitarist in a metal band.

                Toki answered fast, and it took Pickles a couple of moments to notice that he answered without a shirt. That shouldn’t have been as strange as it was, but unlike the other members of the band, Toki was usually pretty adamant about keeping his shirt on, no matter how hot it was on stage. Still, he didn’t say anything about it, and Toki let him come inside with a wide grin. Pickles’ Goldtop was on the bed; he’d heard Toki playing while he was in the hall.

                “Hey, Pickle!” he said, maybe a little too loud for the small room, and turned around to go sit back on the bed. Pickles didn’t say anything. Pickles didn’t think he _could_ say anything. Toki’s back was a mess of raised, pinkish-white scar tissue from his shoulders to his hips. Everything Pickles had ever thought or wondered or feared about the way Toki acted, streaked right there across his skin.

                “Toki,” he croaked, and suddenly the kid whipped back around, eyes wide and terrified because he realized what Pickles must have seen. He grabbed a shirt off the floor and put it on as fast as he could, like maybe Pickles would forget what he’d seen. The kid was wide eyed and scared, staring at Pickles like a deer looked at a car before it got crushed. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was trying to think of something to say but couldn’t. Pickles breathed deeply. “It’s okay. You don’t have ta tell me about ‘em if ya don’t want to. I gat a few scars I don’t like talkin’ about too.” Pickles spoke without thinking and didn’t think he really meant what he was saying, but he didn’t take it back. Toki let out a heavy sigh, touching his own shoulder lightly.

                “Ja. I’s… it ams not bads. They don’ts hurt nos more ands I deserveds them when I gots them.” He spoke quietly and too fast, all the words blurring together to the point that Pickles had to think for a few seconds to realize what he’d said.

                “No you didn’t,” he snapped, harsher than he meant, and Toki flinched. “Sarry. It’s just… I don’t care what ya did, nobady deserves dat.” He smiled, tilting his head to one side as he sat.

                “Okay, Pickle,” he said, even though Pickles could see he didn’t mean it.

                “I’m serious. You didn’t. Whoever did dat to ya… they’re fucked in the head. You’re a good person.” All of a sudden, with barely a breath, Toki started crying. Not just crying, but full on sobbing, shoulders heaving, snot coming out of his nose, face all blotchy and red. Pickles didn’t do anything for a couple moments, just stood there like the dumbest fucking dildo on the planet, but finally brought himself to walk over and sit by Toki. He threw and arm over his shoulder and pulled him close and Toki just hiccupped and cried louder. His neck and his shirt were soaked after barely a second. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He tried not to think about how useless just saying that was when he knew from experience that it wasn’t okay and it probably wouldn’t ever be okay.

                He petted Toki’s hair, felt the ragged split ends at the bottom because no one had been able to convince him to trim it yet, smelled the lingering sweetness from whatever girly shampoo Skwisgaar had bought him. Taller and probably stronger than Pickles or not, he felt small and fragile. Pickles didn’t know how long they sat there, Toki crying and Pickles swapping at random between mumbling platitudes he knew didn’t mean shit and whisper-singing sweet songs that meant even less. Still, eventually Toki calmed down, even if his shoulders were still shaking a little and he couldn’t stop sniffling.

                “Sorries,” he murmured, wiping the tears off his face with his arm. “I ams… it was my dads,” he said, finally. Pickles didn’t say anything; he was scared that anything he said would make Toki clam up again and even though he knew it wasn’t brutal, he knew just as well that if something could still make you break down like that, you needed to tell someone about it. Even if it was just a washed-up, alcoholic, drugged-out drummer like himself. “Used to whips me when I amnest do my chores fast enough, or whens I messes them ups, or when I’s stay in town too longs, or when he founds my guitars and my musics, or…” he stopped, looking away. “Just whenever I does some’ting bads.”  

                “Dude, you weren’t the one doin’ somethin’ bad,” was all he could say, and Toki let himself smile a little.

                “T’anks, Pickle. I’s… wasn’t even dat parts I minded sos much. Dat was just pain, and most things back home hurtses. Was de punishments hole I hateds.” Pickles felt his heart clench. He didn’t think he even wanted to know what the “punishment hole” was. “Used to puts me down dere if de whippings amnest was workings well enough,” he spat, pale blue eyes gone cold and dark like a frozen lake. Pickles thought it might’ve been the first time he’d ever seen Toki angry. Pickles was angry, too. There wasn’t a lot that could piss him off, like, really, seriously piss him off, but people, especially fathers, that hurt their kids were one of the few.

                “Fuck him,” Pickles said, and Toki tilted his head back, laughing loud and long.

                “Ja, fucks him. I’s… I’s here now, ja? I’s here, and I ams happies, and I amnest gots to go back there agains. You remember askings me what happens to my guitar?” Pickles didn’t answer for a moment. He was pretty sure he needed the time to get over the surprise of Toki saying fuck. He kind of liked the way it sounded.

                “Yeah,” he said, and Toki laughed again.

                “I left dat place when my dad ams found de guitar and mys CDs. He comes into my rooms when my moms sent me to buy de groceries in town. I came back and he was outsides. Already burneded de CDs. Was abouts to throw de guitar in too. He wanted to beats me firsts, though, sos he sats it in de snow and tells me to comes over there. I was scareds and angries and I dids it. He tooks de groceries, gave dem to moms. Slaps me in de face. Tells me tos break de guitar. I don’ts does it. He gets angries, hitses me harder. Starts snapping de stringses, cuttsing it, almost broke de necks. I can’ts stands it; I dids work for de guy dat owned de littles records store in town for six months to affords dats and gets him to lets me use de amps. I runs at him, starts just beatings de shits out of hims. He can’ts do nothings. I amnest never realized dat I was strongers den him. He ams barely movings, my mom ams starings at me like I ams de devil. I tooks my guitar and rans. Finally managed to gets enough money for plane tickets, comes here, gets new strings sos I ams can auditions for yous guyses. Ams staying in de homeless shelters, can’ts barely even practice because I amnest gots an amps, but it ams not to be matterings. Fuckings bastards there ams did de rests of de damage to it. Thinks just because I ams foreigns, I’s stupids, sos they can fucks with me.” He smiled a little, here. “Tooks a bunch of their stuffs when I left, throws it in dumpsters. Figureds if dis didn’ts work outs, I coulds just go to different shelters while I looked for de jobs.”

                “Is he dead?” Pickles asked. He was breathless and stiff and he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Toki shook his head.

                “Nos, am stills alive. Gots de letters from mom a fews days ago. Is… good thing. He ams still my dad, ja? Evens if I hates him, ams supposed to honors him.” Pickles couldn’t stop himself from throwing his arms around Toki and hugging him tightly. Toki hugged him back and didn’t say that Toki should’ve killed the fucker. Didn’t say that he wished he’d had the balls to punch his own dad in the goddamn face when he deserved it. Didn’t say he understood. Didn’t say that even though the kindest thing his dad had ever said to him was “you belong in a garbage can” and even though he hated him he still couldn’t honestly say that he didn’t wish his dad gave a damn about him. Didn’t say anything. “Is okay. I knows you don’t think sos.” Pickles shook his head.

                “Nah. Prabably for tha best. Don’t want you ta get arrested or nothin’.” Toki laughed again, high and fluting now, sweet.

                “T’anks, Pickle. Reallies. I… amnest like talking about that stuffs, but yous makes it easy to bes saysing it.” Pickles shrugged, feeling too hot and stupid again.

                “Whatever. Glad I could help, I guess. You wanna go get dinner or somethin’?” Pickles felt suddenly like he desperately needed to be somewhere where he and Toki weren’t alone with each other. Mostly he just didn’t want to think about how much of a goddamn creepy asshole he was. Toki still just smiled like the luckiest, most oblivious bastard on the face of the goddamn earth. Pickles had the stupid thought that maybe he could love him. That night, once he was alone, he got drunker and higher than he could remember getting in a long fucking time.

* * *

 

                A couple days after they finished their debut album (Pickles had been right about Skwisgaar’s opinion on the Goldtop, but he didn’t care; Toki sounded a hell of a lot better on the album with that than he would have on his own beat-up guitar) Toki came to his room looking dazed and confused. Pickles worried for a second that somebody had given him something, but when he spoke, he sounded normal, if a little upset.

                “Hey, Pickle,” he murmured, looking down at his feet, and Pickles frowned.

                “Toki? What’s wrong, dude?”

                “Can I comes in? I amnest wants to talks abouts it out heres.”

                “Uh, sure. Come ahn in.” Pickles gestured broadly, and Toki stepped around him to sit on his bed. Pickles shut the door and joined him. “So, what’s wrang anyway? Ya look confused.” Toki shrugged, crossing his legs and leaning a little closer to Pickles, like he was about to share some big secret.

                “I ams confuseds. I… don’ts tell nobodies, ja?”

                “Sure,” Pickles answered, and he remembered how in high school that never would’ve been enough for any of his friends, but Toki accepted it without a thought, smiling gratefully.

                “Skwisgaar… Skwisgaar kisses me today.” Pickles swore his heart stopped. Might’ve been whatever he was on. He didn’t know.

                “Oh.” He wasn’t surprised, not really. Skwisgaar was… well, he was Skwisgaar Skwigelf. He was a slut, he’d fuck any woman that offered and he hadn’t ever really doubted that it wasn’t much different with men and Toki _was_ pretty. He shook his head. That wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t surprised. He’d thought more than once that Toki and Skwisgaar were a matched set, and not just because they were from similar areas and spoke similar languages. They were like two pieces of a puzzle; they just fit together, like they were meant to be; half the time he didn’t think one of them even had to speak for the other one to know what he was thinking. Nobody else could make either of them sound as good as the other could. “Lang as you’re happy, dude.”

                “What’s you mean?” he asked, and Pickles snorted, looking away.

                “As lang as you’re happy with him, it’s fine. I ain’t gonna tell tha rest of tha band.” He furrowed his brow, frowning, tilted his head to one side.

                “I amnest know whats you mean still, Pickle. Skwisgaar kisses me because I plays real goods, and he was exciteds. Felts weirds. He amnest meants to does it, nots de first times he kisses someones accidentskalies. I’s just… makes me think, ja?” Pickles rolled his eyes; he’d never thought Skwisgaar was such a pussy that he had to call kissing someone he wanted to kiss an accident. And Toki… Toki was young and he was confused and he didn’t understand yet that “weird” was probably closer to “good.”

                “Don’t you think maybe you should talk to Skwisgaar about dis?” He said it angrier than he meant to. Toki frowned more deeply, pulling his legs up to his chest and half-hiding his face in his knees.

                “I tries. He… I’s was not supposeds to tells you dis, but mes and Skwisgaar talks about you sometimes. He says he was worrieds abouts me spending sos much time wit yous. He says yous think de bad things, and that you ams a drunks, and…,” he stopped, sighing. “He say lots of things, but I ams not cares. I’s… he kisses me, and it makes me thinks abouts how I amnest wants to kiss Skwisgaar and I amnest wants to kisses de ladies dat come here eithers.”

                “So find who you do want ta kiss, jeez, dude.” Pickles knew he was bright fucking red and being harsher than he needed to be. He just didn’t want to hear about all the people stupid Toki wanted to kiss. The kid flushed, then fiddled with his hair for a couple of moments before, finally, he sat up, determination in his eyes, and pressed his lips hard against Pickles’. Pickles was shocked enough that he couldn’t respond for a while, not until he felt Toki pulling away, and then, then he grabbed the back of the kid’s head and pulled him back.

                He knew it wasn’t that great. Toki didn’t have any idea how to kiss and Pickles knew he tasted like stale smoke and liquor and he didn’t give a good goddamn because it was still the best kiss he’d ever had. He was panting when they parted, and Toki just smiled like an idiot, faintly red high at the peaks of his cheeks.

                “I likes you, Pickle. You’s… you’s de only one whats nots makes fun of me. You’s listen when I talks and you’s nice and you’s really cares about me.” He was babbling. Pickles only made out about half of what he said because, entirely at random, he’d slip into Norwegian without really noticing and then slip back. He heard him repeat “jeg elsker deg” a lot. Maybe he’d ask what it meant one day. As it was…

                “I like you too, Toki. Helluva lat more than I should. Skwisgaar’s right, ya know that?” Toki just smiled, hugging him tightly.

                “It amnest matters. We try, ja? If it nots work, it nots work. You makes me happies, and I ams knowing that I makes you happy toos. That ams enough for now, amnest it?” If might’ve been the dumbest fucking thing he’d ever said, the dumbest fucking thing he’d ever thought (and it was worse now, he knew how bad shit like this could end up in a band, knew from _experience_ for Christ’s sake) but Pickles just nodded, smiling like the goddamn idiot he knew he was.

                “Yeah. Yeah, for now, I think you’re right. I think it’s enough.” And Toki just smiled, smiled like Pickles, Pickles the Drummer, Pickles the Drunk, Pickles the Addict, Pickles the World Class Fuck Up, had just given him the whole fucking world on a silver platter. Pickles had never been able to make anyone smile like that before, and he was sure he was looking at Toki the same way, except Toki actually fucking deserved it. He didn’t know if it would last, didn’t know if it’d work even for a few weeks, but just then he wanted more than anything to try. He pulled Toki close and sang that stupid fucking song that had never been about anyone before but sure as hell was now, and Toki hummed along like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, and everything was suddenly okay in a way it never had been before. Pickles was happy, and Toki was happy, and right then, yeah, that was enough.


End file.
